One Sided Coin
by Burenda
Summary: They were two sides of the same coin, opposites yet the same, depending on each other in ways they never realized. Then one of them died. 'Mega Man Cartoon universe.'


Disclaimer: This story is based off of the Mega Man cartoons, which do not belong to me in any way, shape, or form. If you want to find the real owners, look to Capcom and ADV Films.

_**One-sided Coin**_

You were my brother. Rival, enemy, on rare occasions my ally, but, ultimately, you were my brother. We fought so much, each of us striving to be better than the other, wanting to prove our worth for all the world to see. Hate, envy, jealousy, longing, despair - we had all of this and more. I tried to get you to join my side so many times, just as you tried to convince me to turn to yours. I don't think either of us ever believed we'd succeed, but we tried anyway.

You're gone now. Dead. Can you even use that term for a robot, for someone, some_thing_ that wasn't technically alive in the first place? I don't care. As far as I'm concerned, we were both alive, and now that you're dead, part of me feels like it died with you.

And what a _stupid_ way to go! It was just a stupid _accident_! Someone like you should have gone out in a blaze of glory, fighting and smiling the whole time, like you always did when we fought. If you knew you were going to die, I think you would have wanted _me_ to be the one to kill you. But this? This wasn't like you at all. How could something like this happen? How could you let yourself die like this? I thought you had more intelligence than that. I thought you had more _pride_.

What _do_ I do without you, bro? I know we were always trying to scrap each other, but it went on for so long, I think I stopped believing that one of us would actually _die_. I never stopped to think about what life would be like without you there to be a constant pain in my neck. You know what? It _sucks_. Nothing's the same without you. I tried to go about my life as though nothing had happened, and, yeah, there's still plenty of battles left to fight, but somehow it's just not as much fun as it used to be.

Heh. It's funny. Here I've spent almost my whole life trying to get rid of you, and now that you're gone I'd give almost anything to have you back. What a joke. A real hoot. Can you see me now, bro? I'm laughing. Laughing so hard I'm shaking. Laughing so hard I'm actually _crying_. I've never cried before in my _life_, but here I am, leaking artificial tears because you had to go and get yourself killed.

I wonder if anyone else is crying for you. Did your creator really care about you, or was all that just a facade, just a crazy old man pretending that you were some kind of son to him or something, all so that he could get you to do what he wanted? He'd _better_ be crying for you, or so help me I'll _give_ him a reason to cry! I bet no one else is crying, though. None of the people in the cities, I mean. You were nothing to them but a figure in the newspaper and on the television. Hardly any of them ever met you, and those who did didn't understand a thing about you. Most of them didn't even think of you as a person. You were just a life-size doll, a puppet, with your creator holding the strings. Credit or blame for the things you did were never assigned to _you_. No, it always went to the man who _created _you. Why would they cry for you?

What I want to know is why? Why did you keep fighting against me? What made it worth it to you to refuse to join me every time I asked you? We would have made such a great team. We could have ended that stupid war and done something wild and crazy together, gone off to have adventures all around the world, or just stayed at home playing video games until our circuits burned out. We could have done whatever we wanted.

You would still be _alive_.

But that'll never happen now. Because you're dead. You're dead and I'm alive and nothing's the way it's supposed to be. I wish you were here, bro. Saving the world, destroying the world, right and wrong, good and evil - none of that seems to matter as much as it did before. I don't want to fight anymore. I don't want to pretend that nothing's changed. I don't want to hear everyone around me being so _happy_ that you're dead. I want...

I want my brother back.

**_-The End-_**

Author Note: Whoever you thought was telling the story, try rereading it from the other person's point of view now. It puts a completely different spin on things.


End file.
